


This Love

by cosim18



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosim18/pseuds/cosim18
Summary: Nobody had come into her life to show her that love really did exist. At least not yet.





	This Love

**Author's Note:**

> A few points I wanted to make:  
> ~ this is not meant to be anti- any ship or characters. I see the value of each one in different contexts so this isn't meant to bash on anyone.  
> ~ I went with the fan theory of Lydia writing 'mischief' in 6x02 because she "officially" fell in love with Stiles in 3x15, on Mischief Night, in the red string scene. I'm not big on the panic attack kiss, so I don't particularly see that as when it happened.  
> ~ I mentioned that everyone graduated together because it's bullshit that Malia would need to do summer school.  
> ~ I ended with 6a because that was a hell of a much better ending for the show and for Stydia, plus 6b made it seem like they never did get that road trip and they deserved it so... yeah.

The idea of love, from falling into it to living with it forever, always felt like a fairy tale to her. From a young age, the movies presented to girls especially preached about True Love, about finding The One. But from everything she’d seen in life so far, the truth was far from that. Her parents were constantly fighting or indifferent, never displaying what fiction would have her believe was love. Nobody had come into her life to show her that love really did exist. At least not yet.

She officially met Jackson at freshman orientation, standing against the doorway to the boys’ locker room. She placed her hand on his bicep and laughed at his jokes, making him think she was a meek pretty girl, understanding that society doesn’t favor the smart girls. Beauty was on her side, and she utilized it to get the guy. She helped mold him into a star, forging them into the school’s resident Hot Couple. Everyone wanted to either be one of them or be _with_ one of them. Or both, really.

Until the second half of sophomore year, Lydia didn’t even have actual friends. She had Jackson, and the remainder of the popular clique, but nobody to call a true friend. When a new girl arrived in Beacon Hills, Lydia felt immediately intimidated. The girl was pretty and had a beautiful smile that pulled people in. The warmth that Lydia was lacking could be found in her, and Lydia decided to curate her before she could become competition. Her name was Allison.

Taking someone under her wing was something new for Lydia, and she found it exhilarating to have someone in her life that she could finally trust and bond with. She still didn’t show her true colors and intelligence to anyone except her teachers at school, but her personality really shone through around Allison, and they became two peas in a pod. However, the part of her that always wanted the best was conflicted, and when the opportunity arose, Lydia decided to kiss Allison’s boyfriend, Scott, not caring about how it might affect her friendship. She’d never thought much of him until the past few weeks when he suddenly seemed to be better at the sport of Beacon Hills, lacrosse. Her focus on Jackson was dwindling as well, with him withdrawing and lashing out more often. Their relationship had never been perfect, but it worked for them. She couldn’t help but go after something that she was interested in, when Scott displayed his heroism in the school the night they were all locked inside. When he approached Lydia regarding Allison’s feelings, she came onto him, kissing him intensely. But it wasn’t meant to be.

In such a short amount of time, Lydia came to realize that what Allison had with Scott she may never have with Jackson. He was dedicated to her, more concerned about their relationship than the prospect of upgrading to Lydia. It was with a shade of embarrassment that she told Allison as much when confronted. Following the breakup with Jackson, Lydia felt alone and shocked. She was the one to make sudden decisions like that, to blindside others, not the other way around. She had a bitter taste in her mouth when thinking about what Scott and Allison had, but she found distraction in the form of the winter formal.

With Jackson taking Allison as a friend, Lydia accepted the invitation of another random lacrosse player. But as penance for kissing Allison’s boyfriend, Lydia agreed to go to the dance with Stiles Stilinski. Allison dropped hints about him occasionally, but she needn’t have. Lydia was well aware of the crush Stiles held on her, and had been since elementary school. They never ran in the same circles, but they seemingly always existed in each other’s lives. Going to the dance with him certainly felt like a punishment, but she wanted to make amends to her best friend. Her only friend.

The night of the dance, Stilinski picked her up in his junky jeep, and Lydia almost refused to even get in it. But she wanted to go to the dance, to show Jackson that she didn’t care, so she went along. Jackson made a biting comment when she complimented his outfit, and much to her dismay she still felt the drop in her heart from his lack of love. She realized she had fallen for him, despite him not truly being worthy of her. She muttered to herself about not wanting to fall prey to society’s expectations when she was impressed to find Stiles listening.

_“Well I think you’re really pretty,” he said._

A simple sentence in and of itself, but so very important. He was _listening_ , something that she didn’t realize she needed. They made their way into the dance, and while Lydia held this sweetness in the back of her mind, she didn’t have the emotional energy to put up a front, so she took to sitting down and watching the happy couples dancing. Stiles sat next to her, and there was a palpable awkwardness between them. When he suddenly stood and asked her to dance, she couldn’t help but scoff. The idea that she would simply want to get up and be with someone like him was almost laughable, but she was genuinely amused when he refused to take no for an answer. She was only half paying attention to him when he said something that made her look at him in a different light.

_“Once you're done pretending to be a nitwit, you'll eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the Nobel Prize.”_

As a gut reaction, she corrected him, pointing out that the Fields Medal is the one she’ll be winning. He stared at her for a moment, not sure what she meant, and maybe a little surprised that she was even listening to him. She extended a courtesy that not many received.

They danced for a few songs, and she no longer felt awkward to be around him. He was warm and comfortable, and provided her a shoulder to lean on. They needn’t talk, and they were both happy to be there as they were. But the aching in her heart wouldn’t go away, and she pulled back to look up at her partner. She could just as easily have left with no explanation, but Stiles had proven that he deserved better than that. She didn’t even need to explain, he already knew, and he didn’t try to stop her or point out that she was better than Jackson.

The last thing that she heard before waking up in the hospital was the sound of Stiles screaming her name, terror in his voice.

* * *

 

The remainder of sophomore year went by in a blur. It wasn’t quick or happy, but once it was over, Lydia felt a weight release from her shoulders.

Jackson only pulled away further, turning vicious at times. He didn’t confide in her anymore, and she didn’t have the strength to ask for her own help. The key he’d given her, that she lied about still holding onto, laid against her chest, under her clothes. It was a reminder that they were good, once upon a time.

She began to be haunted by dreams, waking and sleeping, of a boy her age. She didn’t try to learn more about him, too distraught from everything she’d just gone through to be able to devote time or thought to it. He provided a safe place for her, making her feel understood, even if she was going a little crazy. Her other friends always seemed busy with something or another, especially now that Allison and Scott were still together despite officially breaking up.

Things were no longer adding up, or maybe she was working with the wrong equations before. It wasn’t just that people were withdrawing from her, things were becoming weird. Erica and Isaac were suddenly confident and hot, and Scott and Stiles were often at the center of trouble, rather than staying in the loser’s corner. Then one day, Stiles, Allison, and Jackson shepherded her to Scott’s house, supposedly for a school project. Jackson pulled her upstairs and for the first time since breaking up, she finally admitted that she was still in love with him. It broke her inside a little bit to admit it, especially knowing how much better she knew she deserved, but she couldn’t help what her heart wanted. What she’d tricked herself into thinking was what she wanted.

_“Remember what it feels like. All of those times in school when you see him standing down the hall, and you cannot breathe until you're with him. Or those times in class when you - you can't stop looking at the clock because you know that he's standing right out there waiting for you. Don't you remember what that's like?”_

Lydia had simply been wanting an explanation about what was going on, but Allison blindsided her. She hadn’t had that kind of love, and hearing Allison say those things about Scott made her realize that True Love might actually be possible.

Peter Hale. He was the one haunting her dreams, invading her thoughts, becoming a part of her subconscious. The same man who attacked her on the field that night. She had nobody to turn to for help, especially not knowing if anyone knew what she knew. So she followed his instructions, let him manipulate her, rather than try to put up a fight against an invisible enemy. She resurrected him, despite knowing next to nothing past her own brush with death and the rumors that had been spreading around Beacon Hills from before she had even been born. She took a few days off of school after that night, and when she finally returned, she felt renewed.

It wasn’t even like she was back to normal - it was like she was finally waking up after a bad dream. The fog of popularity was fading, thanks to her status as crazy around school, but she found herself not even caring anymore. It felt like a relief, a breath of fresh air. Taking stride in this new air, Lydia decided to attend the lacrosse game that night. Jackson was playing, as always, but for once she wouldn’t be there for him. She would be there for herself, and for Stiles. He’d become an unexpected friend, always trying to look out for her and protect her from whatever may come around to try and hurt her, whether that be loneliness or Jackson. He was unexpected in almost every way, and she felt a pure happiness watching him play.

Seeing Jackson die on the field was an utter shock to her system. She felt like she might be moving past him, and then the rug was pulled out from under her. When she was forcibly removed from the scene so they could take his body to the morgue, she wandered, driving around Beacon Hills for a few hours to distract herself. She knew she would completely break down if she went home, but she felt a pull to Stiles’s house. His father was surprised to see her, but welcomed her into his home. Even in just a few brief moments she felt the love he had in him, and envied Stiles for having a father like that.

Talking to Stiles felt like a verbal hug from someone. They sat at the edge of his bed, talking about Jackson and the supernatural, but their conversation felt more authentic and warm than anything Lydia had had in a long time. He was genuine in caring about her, and she realized just how much he liked her when she noticed the pile of gifts he’d bought for her birthday. It was a welcome distraction, but it also scared her to think about her birthday party and what she’d done. Before they could get much further in communication, however, Lydia realized how badly Scott was trying to get in contact with Stiles.

_“If  you die, I will literally go out of my freakin' mind. You see, death doesn't happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you, okay? To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they're gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it? Huh? And look at my face, huh? Come on, you actually think this was meant to hurt me?_

Lydia stared at Stiles for a moment, not sure what to even say. She knew he cared for her, and she was comforted by the thought. But he didn’t seem to understand that she didn’t _care_ what would happen to someone else if something unfortunate happened to her. She knew she played a role in how things were playing out, even if she didn’t fully understand it all, and she knew that there was something she could do about Jackson. Her love for him was still strong, and her feelings were conflicted with Stiles’s words. She turned to leave, but he finally convinced her to let him drive her, that teamwork would be smarter and safer than going it alone.

She knew she hurt Stiles when she turned back for Jackson, when she professed her feelings for him in front of everyone. But she knew she could save Jackson with the love she still held for him, and she didn’t give a damn if that love hurt anyone else. She just didn’t expect that same love to hurt _her_ when he left Beacon Hills.

* * *

 

After an emotionally exhausting summer, full of doubts about Jackson and curiosity about Scott and Stiles, Lydia decided to make junior year a completely fresh start. Allison, Stiles, and Scott helped explain the entirety of the supernatural world that they knew of, and suddenly so much more made sense to her. The strange activities of the boys, as well as Allison’s proclivity to skip out on classes or cancel on their plans were now explained. But one mystery she hadn’t taken the energy to work on was her romantic life.

After the abrupt pain of Jackson’s departure, Lydia vowed to not let herself get vulnerable again. So on that first day of classes, when she stood with Allison at their lockers, she eyed the potential sexual market. She didn’t want a boyfriend, she wanted a fuck buddy, and she found one in the form of one of the new twins, Aiden.

As the days turned into weeks, the world of the supernatural began to confuse even Scott and Stiles, who started it all. There was a new pack in town, full of alphas, and Lydia learned later rather than sooner that Aiden was one of them. She felt a new confidence in herself, especially considering that she was finally allowing herself to showcase her smarts.

Meanwhile, it seemed as though she and Stiles fit together like puzzle pieces. Their complementary intelligences worked seamlessly, providing different perspectives and knowledge about the situation unfolding. From discussing the pull Lydia had to the ritual sacrifices to finding Harris’s final warning about the darach, their teamwork was surprising and cohesive.

Their relationship came to a head when Stiles was having his panic attack. Anxiety had decided to rear its ugly head while all of them were at their lowest. Allison’s father had been taken and suddenly Stiles couldn’t focus on anything else, his system shutting down in fear and helplessness. Lydia pulled him into the locker room, away from the commotion of school, and they both fell to their knees, the world moving faster than normal. Stiles couldn’t distract himself, and Lydia couldn’t think of anything to say to reassure him, so she gently grabbed his face and kissed him.

As their lips locked, Lydia smoothed her hands over Stiles’s cheeks, rooting him to the spot, slowing time down. She squeezed her eyes shut, realizing how much this meant to Stiles, until finally she pulled back for a breath. Her eyes flickered open to look up at Stiles, who stared at her like she was the sun in his otherwise dark world.

_“That was really smart.”_

_“I just... I don't know. I just read it somewhere. And if I was really smart, I would tell you to sign up for a few sessions with a guidance counselor.”_

Even with Stiles, the one person who _always_ saw through her, she felt the need to explain away her intelligence. She wasn’t used to someone who liked her so much to like her for who she actually was, brain and all. The connection, the tether, that they had to one another, was finally brought out into the open when Deaton proposed that Scott, Stiles, and Allison ritually sacrifice themselves to save their parents. There was nobody else with a close connection for Stiles as Scott, and knowing everything they had been through, it made perfect sense for Lydia to take up that mantle.

After the sacrifices, Lydia felt even more connected to Stiles. She was still with Aiden as fuck buddies, and she had feelings for him, but not on the same level as with Stiles. He had become her rock, her comfortable place, physically and mentally. After his nightmares started, Lydia began to share Stiles’s bed, at least to calm him to sleep. It was purely platonic, but the love still was strong between them. That love also continued when Lydia stepped on the bear trap. It was the first time she was completely honest with Stiles, telling him that he was the smartest person she knew, that he was the one who always got it right, who figured things out and understood the world of the supernatural on a level like nobody else.

The next few weeks were terrifying for Lydia’s banshee powers, always sensing something was wrong. She felt the imminence of death much more often, and she knew somehow that something terrible was going to happen soon. She found out soon enough that one of those terrible things was Stiles becoming possessed by the nogitsune. Learning that one of her best friends was in such a situation worried Lydia more than anything else, the fear of losing him to his mind almost scarier than the thought of his life ending. Knowing he was no longer himself, that some _thing_ was masquerading around with his face, broke her inside a little bit. When Peter suggested that she accompany Scott in retrieving Stiles out of his mind, she was only hesitant because she didn’t want to further harm Stiles.  She didn’t expect to be blindsided by the return of her Stiles being coupled with the loss of Allison.

The pack didn’t have the chance to recover from Allison’s death before working to expel the nogitsune from Stiles’s mind. Lydia acted as a stable rock for Stiles to lean on, holding onto him for dear life. He was weak, and getting weaker by the minute, and Lydia couldn’t fathom losing him too. When he fainted after seeing his own face die, Lydia crumpled down next to him, shaking and cold. Her heart wouldn’t let her give up, and she clasped his hand, giving him any warmth she carried with her, and her breath stopped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, until he opened his eyes. A huge smile spread across her face, relief washing over her features. But as soon as it began, it was cut short.

Her banshee senses heightened again as soon as she thought she could truly breathe again, and she stood slowly, not wanting to face the reality. She hadn’t been there to see Allison, and she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing who she feared had died now. But she shad to face the truth. Like a bullet leaving a chamber, Lydia raced back out of the school toward the underpass, stopping in her tracks when she saw the twins and Argent. She couldn’t force herself to comfort Ethan or to say goodbye to Aiden in his final moments. Instead, she turned heel and quickly found herself in the arms of her hidden love, Stiles. He was there for her, like none other, and he wrapped his arms around her, shrouding her from the pain she was feeling, and giving her a home to place her heart with.

* * *

 

Anger quickly became Lydia’s safe space again, hurt and sarcasm acting as defenses. The loss of Allison left an emptiness in Lydia’s heart, and she found Malia taking up residence in the home she had curated in Stiles. She would never blame them, finding each other in their comparable darkness, but it felt wrong to see them so happy when a critical part of their lives had been stolen.

She knew that Malia wasn’t trying to replace Allison, and Lydia’s subconscious even laughed at the idea. But she couldn’t help but feel as though Stiles chose Malia over her, which is why, when they all ventured down to Mexico to find Derek, Lydia refrained from leaning into Stiles as she would have otherwise. Her fingers grazed against Stiles’s as they walked through the town square, never quite staying, and when he looked to her for guidance, she simply nodded toward him, telling him to trust himself. She didn’t trust herself around him alone anymore, not when they didn’t have a distraction.

As Stiles grew closer to Malia and Scott grew closer to Kira, Lydia found new friendship in Deputy Parrish. He paid attention to her like Stiles had, and like Allison used to, and she found it easy to talk to him. He had no assumptions or preconditions to their friendship, and she enjoyed being able to investigate things with him. It was adorable to her that he thought she was psychic, but that was certainly easier to accept than explaining the whole banshee thing. After losing Allison, Lydia wasn’t sure anymore how to cope with her newfound powers, and certainly not how to control them.

Soon enough, the pack discovered that Parrish was a supernatural entity, which became an exciting mystery to solve along with the deadpool. As Lydia worked with Parrish to try and figure out what he was, she also worked with Stiles to aid the pack in deciphering the deadpool and bringing it to an end. Her heart felt lighter whenever she and Stiles were able to be alone together, almost falling into their old habits and traditions. Almost.

The two occasions on which Lydia and Stiles visited Eichen House left a sour taste in their mouths, but Lydia’s heart mildly leaped at the fact that it gave them an excuse to be together. On the first trip, Stiles acted as a comfort to Lydia, holding her close and defending her when Meredith became upset. His hand on her cheek when he was assessing the damage done by the other banshee’s scream reminded Lydia of the caress she left on his cheek a few months prior, and she was briefly reminded of how _good_ they were, before the tragedies that would befall them. The second visit, however, was not as nice to the duo. Brunski ended up being Meredith’s puppet, and when he threatened them they were thrown headfirst into their equal desires to defend one another. Lydia could sense that someone was going to die, was certain that it would happen, and she was as terrified as ever, listening to Stiles plead with Brunski to leave her alone. The boy had always cared more for other people’s lives than his own, especially when it came to her. There was an immense worry that Lydia would lose her surviving best friend, and he was just as fearful of losing her. They fell back into that pattern of putting the other’s safety in front of their own, but thankfully neither was killed.

When she heard of the rift between Stiles and Malia, Lydia couldn’t help but feel as though it was rightful. They both needed their chances to catch up with where life left them, and understand the truths that lay between them. The rift was short lived, however, when Stiles was briefly in the hospital for the injury sustained in their joint capture at Eichen House. While Lydia was alone at the sheriff’s station, comforted by her love’s father, Stiles was able to find happiness and distraction with Malia. She didn’t want to encroach on their happiness, however, and stayed quiet. This quietness lasted through the summer after junior year ended.

* * *

 

The summer before senior year was one of separation from the pack for Lydia, of her own doing, It hurt to see everyone else in good, stable relationships and not have anyone to accompany her. But she also didn't’ feel a desire to search for anyone, instead comfortable with finding herself. She also spent time in her growing friendship with Parrish, allowing him to fill her life with distraction from everything else going on.

Senior Scribe night was an adventure in itself for the pack, and Lydia was left with a longing for Allison to be back in their lives. She would never be forgotten, and Lydia was proud that Scott and the others still held her in their hearts.

It wasn’t until Lydia was injured by Tracy, laying on the floor of the sheriff’s station with Kira and Theo working to help save her that Lydia realized just how much Stiles still cared about her. Of course he cared for the entire pack, but Lydia hadn’t seen so much dedication and love for her from Stiles since before Malia. He was frozen to the spot, unable to move forward, something highly uncharacteristic of him. Stiles was a boy of action, and to see him frozen scared Lydia, so she plastered on a smile and reassured him that she would be fine.

The next time Stiles and Lydia found themselves alone together, it was back at their old haunting ground of Eichen House. Being immune to the mountain ash, the human and banshee were forced to confront Valeck together, finding strength in one another, as usual. Stiles acted as protectively as ever, even though Lydia could sense that something was different about him. She didn’t want to pry, didn’t have the time to do so, but as they stood in front of the glass, she extended her hand, brushing her fingers against his just as they did the year before, on that hot day in Mexico. When the Dread Doctors arrived, Stiles stood protective of Lydia. His arm holding her close, feeling his breath on her neck, Lydia felt at home again with him. The world was narrowed down to just the two of them, and for the first time in a long while, Lydia felt truly safe.

Knowing Stiles had her back, no matter what, gave Lydia the confidence to breathe happily again, although it was again short lived. They worked together to find the Nemeton, knowing it was a likely unfruitful endeavor, but they didn’t have much else to rely on anymore. They parted ways when it became clear that they were getting nowhere, and only with the hellhound did Lydia discover the Nemeton. The messengers of death were quite a team, though not what Lydia wanted.

Things escalated quickly thereafter, with Theo revealing his true identity and splintering the pack. Lydia was placed in Eichen House, and she had no room to think of love in her situation. She had to break out of her catatonic state and save her friends. But when she finally freed herself, triggered by the love she held for Malia, it was Aiden that was used to sway her. Dr. Valeck disguised his appearance to her in the form of the love she never got to resolve, the love taken too soon. She considered herself to have moved past him, but he was the one who she never saw coming, or leaving, in the first place.

And of _course_ the first friendly and true face that Lydia could see once she found her inner strength and climbed her way out of her mind was Stiles. He came for her, just as she knew he would. Lydia could not imagine a world in which Stiles wouldn’t be there for her. He had always been there to fight for her, defend her, support her, and this was no different. The entire pack had come together, but it was Stiles who orchestrated it, who was able to reach her in the depths of Eichen House, where nobody else could.

_“Lydia, please shut up and let me save your life.”_

Tact had never been something Stiles had, and Lydia had to smile a little, knowing he wasn’t willing to be soft with her in this moment, that he refused to listen to her pleas for his safety. He truly was her knight in shining armor, albeit an awkwardly bumbling knight. In the smile she gave him as he helped her stand, she realized she had never truly given up on him. The idea that she had lost him was silly to even think about, and she knew Stiles would be able to figure a way out of this for them.

After collapsing in the hallway, Lydia was briefly reminded of the last time one of them was so certain they would die - that night on the lacrosse field, when Stiles saved her. He yelled at her to run, jsut as she found herself doing in the tunnels of Eichen. He didn’t want to listen, but the hellhound pulled him out of the way, giving Lydia a pillow to dampen her scream. She let it out, and it wasn’t until Stiles held her in his jeep that she felt grounded again. She stared at him, fear in her eyes, knowing how easily she could kill him. She caressed his jawline, feeling the blood she pulled from him with her shriek, and willed herself not to break down. She couldn’t think about losing him. She _wouldn’t_ lose him.

Her hand held his like a vice as Deaton pushed the mistletoe into her head, plugging up the hole Valeck had drilled into her. The screams were getting louder, fearful that she would shut them out, and she couldn’t hold back anymore, bolting upright to burst.

And suddenly the world was quiet.

She could feel herself walking the line, tiptoeing across a tightrope. No voices terrorized her, no final breaths sweeping through her subconscious.

There was a different kind of fog in her mind. It was soft and gentle, uncharacteristic of the lost souls she was accustomed to. It sounded like it was pleading with her, begging her.

_“Listen to me, Lydia.”_

She knew that voice. She’d known it for years. A decade, almost, even if she wasn’t close with the voice until recently. She _wanted_ to listen to it, to stop it from sounding so hurt.

_“Hey, show me your eyes, okay? Lydia, you have to open your eyes.”_

_Stiles_ . That was _Stiles_ , and as soon as she placed it, Lydia felt her soul reignite. She couldn’t leave him, not like this. Not after everything else they’d survived. And so she pulled her eyes open, willed herself to stay alive for him. She hurt, everywhere, but the voices were silent and the boy in front of her looked as though she just saved his life, and not the other way around.

Words didn’t seem fitting for this occasion, too muddied by the love coursing through her, and so she simply held his hand, smiling up at him. He helped her up, and when her mom came in and held her, she kept staring at the boy, _her_ boy. Her smile felt more natural than anything she’d experienced.

_“Stiles saved me.”_

The words weren’t meant to exclude the rest of the pack, the rest of their friends. The words were meant to be a confirmation that she finally understood that Stiles was the one who _always_ saved her. Peter. Her descent into madness. Jennifer Blake. Eichen. He always came for her, always saved her.

Life returned as close to normal as possible after the incident at the mental institution. The pack was still working to fight against Theo and the Dread Doctors. Lydia still sought the distraction of Parrish, feeling needed with him to help protect Beacon Hills while Stiles accompanied Scott and Kira in finding out who the Beast was. But neither was giving up on the other. The tension was palpable in the sheriff’s station, sitting next to Stiles. They both knew the love between them was finally becoming clear to both parties, escalating suddenly, but they didn’t know where to begin. There was too much history to delve into with everything else going on.

Of _course_ it was Stiles. When she was hospitalized following the claws of Sebastian Valet, she laid in the bed, covers pulled up, feeling as though she perhaps wasn’t as strong or useful as she’d once believed, until she felt the familiarity of Stiles’s hand on hers. The touch woke her from her sleep, and she couldn’t say she was surprised to see him standing there. Who else would it be? Instead of asking what drew him there, knowing the answer already, she asked if they found a solution.

_“It was you, Lydia.”_

He refused to stop believing in her, even if she lost hope in her abilities. He knew she had it in her, and his confidence is what made her agree. He held her hand while Melissa injected the cortisone into her wound, tethering her. Their hands had seen more of each other than anyone else.

After the Dread Doctors and Beast were defeated, the pack settled back into the routine of school. Being seniors, most of them needed to step up their game when it came to academics, and Lydia was more than happy to help with that. Kira decided to leave, as per her bargain with the Skin Walkers, and the pack felt the loss. It wasn’t like losing Allison, much less of a feeling of permanence, but it still hurt. Malia took it especially hard, and Lydia stepped in to help her fill that void, knowing what it felt like to lose a best friend. They became closer just as she and Stiles did, and all parties seemed comfortable with the situation.

* * *

 

The first week back after Spring Break was good, like the kind of good that felt impossible after the supernatural started raining down on Beacon Hills. Lydia didn’t need her high IQ to know something was bound to happen. Stiles became fixated on a potential new adventure, making Lydia get out of bed at ungodly hours of the night, taking her as a supernatural metal detector. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it.

One night in particular, they all gathered to investigate a car in which a kid’s parents disappeared. Or, according to the boy, were taken. The night bled into the next day after Lydia shut Stiles down, wanting to speed up the rest of the year so they could get the hell out of the city before anything terrible happened. All throughout the day at school, Stiles was itching to leave, and when Sydney asked if the group would take a picture for the yearbook, Lydia pulled Stiles down, leaning into his warmth.

They’d become even more comfortable around each other, both in the same place with their love for the first time. Lydia wasn’t even scared of the prospect of being in a relationship again - it was simply that she had fallen in love with Stiles so softly and slowly that she didn’t see a need to change how things were. It was a subconscious sort of love, something she didn’t even think about. They were happy, truly and completely, and that alone was something new. As they walked out of the school that evening before Stiles had to head to lacrosse practice, he still tried to solve the mystery of the kid’s missing parents. Lydia wanted to humor him, let him continue, but she also wanted to bask in the calm of what life had settled into. The crack of thunder changed all of that.

She could sense that something wicked was coming, that there would be a loss of sorts, but she didn’t want to think about it. Less than a year before, Allison died, and then Kira left. She couldn’t take the idea of losing anyone else.

_“Killer on the road, Give this man a ride, sweet family will die. Killer on the road.”_

_“Riders on the Storm?”_

With Stiles she could figure anything out. She had been trying to decipher it alone, but Stiles had a different type of intelligence, a different perspective, and she was reminded of when they investigated the ritual sacrifices. With Stiles, she now understood what the next threat to the town was. What she _didn’t_ expect was him kissing her cheek. He had been telling her for years how smart she was, he knew how much it truly meant to her, but this time it was different.

_“Lydia, you're so smart, I could kiss you right now!”_

Her gut reaction was to tell him no, to brush it off, and when he didn’t listen, she felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot. It was quick and chaste, and he ran off like the adorable dork she had grown to love. She smiled, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and she felt at home.

Now that she knew what they were dealing with, Lydia enlisted Malia’s help in determining what could be done about the Ghost Riders. She still felt an uneasiness about the imminent dangers, but she brushed it off to her surprise about the kiss. That was, until Malia questioned who Stiles was.

They knew he saw the Ghost Rider at Alex’s house. They knew the legend. But Lydia refused to believe she could lose _Stiles_. Anybody but Stiles. He was her rock, her home, her safe place. She was shaking and didn’t even stop to think, running toward her fear, running into Stiles.

_“Oh thank god, you know me”_

Lydia felt tears in her eyes, a heaviness in her chest. If everyone else was forgetting him, that meant she would soon too. No. No, she wouldn’t let herself. She would not fucking forget Stiles. She wouldn’t let the Ghost Riders take him.

He pulled her along with him, and she held onto his hand, refusing to leave his side. She knew they could get away, she knew they could be safe together, _together_. Suddenly Stiles stopped, refusing to place his key in the ignition, refusing to let her save him.

_“You're gonna forget me.”_

She felt her breath leave her, paralyze her. Reasonably speaking, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it, but she would be damned if she was going to let him go. He grabbed onto her hand, its familiarity not comforting her for the first time.

_“Just try to find some way to remember me, okay? Remember how you were the first girl I ever danced with? Or how I had a crush on you freshman year. Sophomore year? Junior year? Remember how you saved my life?”_

_“You saved my life too.”_

She had to let him know that she remembered, that she cared, that she would never be able to give up on him.

_“Just remember. Remember I love you.”_

She didn’t have a chance to think those words over, understand the implication of them being spoken aloud, before he was pulled out of the jeep, and suddenly she was alone, in every way.

_“Remember. Remember. Remember.”_

She repeated the words like a mantra, something to hold her down. She refused to leave the jeep, refused to move a single muscle. Maybe if she didn’t leave this sacred place she wouldn’t forget. She muttered it over and over, terrified to do anything else. But eventually sleep took over.

When the sun began to shine in the jeep, indicating the start to a new day, Lydia squinted her eyes open. She straightened in the seat, feeling the tension in her legs from being curled up all night. She didn’t even question why she was in the jeep, not thinking it was unusual, and got out, walking over to her car. Her phone indicated that it was a few hours before school would start, and she drove home to shower and change. Instead of expending further energy, she opted to braid her hair, pulling on a skirt and jacket to look presentable, and drove herself back to school. But when she arrived, walking through the double doors, she stopped, suddenly realizing something was gone, missing, taken. But _what_ , she didn’t know.

The next few days of school were uneventful, save for her nights being haunted by lack of sleep and an unexplained emptiness in her heart, until one day Lydia noticed she wasn’t the only one feeling something different. Malia was acting more aggressive than usual, even going so far as to show her claws, unable to control her shift fully. Lydia coached her through it, feeling unfamiliar in the words she was speaking. Malia had gone through this before, but it was... different somehow. They were preoccupied with calming down the coyote when suddenly Lydia noticed a woman in doctor’s scrubs sitting in their math class.

She followed the woman when she left, knowing this was somehow related to her banshee premonitions, and felt her heart race when she stepped outside to a suddenly dark courtyard. Leaves blew in the wind, and she heard the echo of a voice in the wind.

_“You know me”_

It didn’t sound familiar, but Lydia supposed it could be someone else’s premonition she was hearing. It wouldn't be the first time she heard foreign voices in her head.

_“Will you forget me?”_

Something was pulling on her heart, making her feel like something was _very_ wrong with how things were, and she found herself answering the voice, reassuring them that she wouldn't forget. But just as she felt close to the mystery person, real life caught up, and Malia yanked Lydia back to the safety of the sidewalk. She was simply trying to remember the owner of the voice.

The rest of the day got stranger. Malia exhibited even more animalistic habits, and Scott acted more distant than usual, as though he was caught up in thought. That night, they met up in the woods and realized they may all be missing the same person. Scott’s best friend. Malia’s anchor. And the boy Lydia loved.

As their resident supernatural expert, Deaton proposed that Lydia try automatic writing. Desperate for an answer, she took to the paper, feeling a fog take over her mind again, somehow comfortable. When the others returned, worried about her frenzy, she looked down at the paper, seeing that it spelled the word _Stiles,_ made up of a smaller word, repeated over and over - _mischief_.

Malia started to get worse, going so far as to shift in school. Scott and Lydia were able to take care of her, but the sheriff overheard a conversation in which they were talking about what a stiles was, mentioning offhand that it was in fact a name. When Lydia visited the Stilinski household with Scott, she put on a face of being fine, but she could sense something was wrong. There was a woman watching her, as though to deliver a message, and Lydia went after her to understand what was going on, but it was a dead end.

The dead ends started to pile up soon thereafter. Lydia could feel something inside of her calling out, refusing to give up on Stiles. After discussing the family history with the sheriff’s father, Malia and Scott wanted to focus on the Ghost Riders and not on who they potentially took. Lydia felt cut off, as though she was the only one who could do this, but she felt as though something, or perhaps some _one_ was gone that would’ve been with her, would’ve been the one to give her support when she couldn’t hold herself up. She felt her inner voice reassuring her that it would be worth it, that whoever she was looking for was the one she had fallen into step with. She returned to the Stilinski house again, looking for some sort of clue, and encountered another lost soul, questioning him, but to no avail.

Scott finally convinced Lydia to rest for a while. Not to give up on Stiles, but to not let him consume her. She settled back into a routine at school, and felt as though perhaps it _was_ a dream, that perhaps Stiles never was theirs. She refused to give up entirely, and felt validated when she was pulled to the jeep in the school parking lot. Something about it called to her, was significant somehow, and with Scott and Malia she worked to figure it out. Scott confirmed that hey had been there before, based on scent, but that couldn't explain Stiles.

When Lydia parked her car in front of the sheriff’s house to ask about the jeep’s records, she questioned if any of this was worth it. She felt like she was back in sophomore year, when the town thought she was crazy after her fugue state. But she knew she owed it to whoever was haunting her to bring them back. Claudia’s ardent refusal to even consider the possibility of losing a son felt like a knife to the heart. The jeep was Lydia’s last tether to Stiles, and as she crumbled against their wall, she finally broke down, crying the tears that she didn’t want to give weight. She felt broken and scared, unsure of what else she could do.

She made her way back to the jeep, accompanied by the other two. They stood in the dark of night, wondering where to go from there, when a howl broke out. Malia and Scott rushed to it while Lydia paced outside of the vehicle, and Scott didn’t need to say anything when he returned, instead holding up the keys. They both smiled, knowing this meant Lydia finally had a win, and they got in the jeep. She hesitated to start it, unsure of what would happen next, but she finally did, somehow understanding exactly how the vehicle would react.

_“Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”_

Lydia’s heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat, when the staticy radio jumped to life. This was the same voice that was haunting her dreams, that was pushing her to believe in herself and her abilities. It was Stiles. Lydia could see Scott staring at her, apology in his eyes but a smile on his face. She was right.

After that night, Lydia had a new spring in her step - not quite excitement, and she had no room for pride in the situation. It was an eagerness. She was right that Stiles was real, that he was important to the pack. To her. They followed his lead to discover the last town the Ghost Riders decimated, and Lydia felt stronger than she had since everything began, confident in herself and her ability to find Stiles. She refused to believe she would become like Lorraine, the fellow banshee, insistent that she was going to fight for her love.

Now that the pack knew Stiles existed, Lydia was tasked with the Sheriff. Her mother was supportive, knowing that there were boundaries that Lydia was scared to cross, but they knew what needed to be done. When Lydia learned that the Sheriff had uncovered Stiles’s room, she slowly stepped in, no longer afraid. She felt lonely, but she knew she no longer had to put up a front. As she took in the room around her, the tears began to flow, and she smiled, seeing the things she never thought she would again - his bed, with the plaid bedspread she first saw when she came to him for comfort from Jackson’s death. The dry-erase board where Stiles would keep his theories and detective work.  The desk he never seemed to actually use. And folded on the chair in front of it, his lacrosse jersey. Lydia’s hand shook as she reached out for it, and when she felt the smooth fabric she gasped. She remembered cheering him on in the winning game of sophomore year, the pure joy they felt in the moment. She picked it up and brought it to her face, inhaling the scent of him. It was familiar, warm, and she buried her face in it for a moment, savoring the brief sensory memory. She thought of curling into him as they shared a bed, of his enfolding hugs.

When she turned around, she saw concern across the Sheriff’s face. He still didn’t believe.

_“Why do you care so much if I remember him?”_

_“Because you loved him.”_

Because _I_ loved him, she thought. Because the love I had for him is just as strong as the love you had for your son. He didn’t _want_ to believe, but when she threw the jersey to him, he caught it without a problem. He looked up at her, shock on his face, and she simply smiled before leaving. He had so much to deal with now and she didn't want to add guilt on top.

The Ghost Riders were relentless. As they continued their assault on Beacon Hills, the pack continued their quest for Stiles. They were determined to get him back, and Lydia was leading the charge. After Malia and Scott subsequently went through their time in the cooler, remembering Stiles, Lydia didn’t want to give up hope. She knew she couldn’t survive in the cooler, and was scared of the potential of remembering him, of the guilt it would bring from forgetting him. But finally she caved, knowing it was necessary. Once the meditation set in, she breathed deeply, understanding what was going to happen wouldn’t be easy.

_“Fields Medal”_

_“Turning out to be a perfect combination.”_

_“You’re something!”_

_“You've been right every time something like this has happened, okay? So don't start doubting yourself now.”_

Visions played through her head of the story of them, of Stiles and Lydia. She felt herself starting to cry, realizing exactly who she lost. Who Stiels was to her. Who he had become for her. As she opened her eyes, her memory catching her up, she realized. That was when she fell in love with him. True, unadulterated, fairy tale love. That night after she sensed Barrow at the school, while she was laying on his bed. They were simply acting in their normal routine, but as soon as he heard her doubt, he stopped what he was doing to comfort her. Looking at his face, feeling his fingers play with hers, wrapping the red string around her fingers, she realized she loved this boy.

There was a myth, a legend, that the gods tied a string around the fingers of two lovers that were destined to be together. It was stronger than love at first sight, or even soulmates. It was like being two sides of the same coin, always destined to be together. Lydia looked to Scott as she realized that perhaps these gods were real, that she had been blessed to have such a connection to someone else. She remembered everything since that moment, all the times they saved each other, even when all that meant was being there. She told them of how she was the last one to see Stiles before he was taken. That she never said she loved him back.

They didn’t have time to think about it, about the implications, before a sound erupted behind them. There was a light shining in the tunnel, and Lydia could feel the tension on her tether pulling. Stiles was there.

Just as soon as it appeared, the light faded, Scott and Malia weren’t sure what to say to Lydia. They didn’t hear his voice, didn’t see him coming, but they knew better than to doubt Lydia. She knew she had just opened a rift between worlds, something that shouldn't have been possible. But the combination of the love held for Stiles by the people in his life culminated in the forces of nature breaking down to allow his return. Lydia realizing she truly did love Stiles was the final hit.

Having remembered Stiles, Malia knew that waiting for him to come was pointless. For all they knew, he had never even been in the tunnels, so there was no reason to expect him to arrive. She brought Lydia along with her, knowing they were needed elsewhere.

As they fought the Ghost Riders at the school, Lydia felt something changing. She focused on helping Malia while Peter was injured, but when they were separated, Lydia was able to hone in on the source of her confusion. Without thought, she followed her senses to find herself in the locker room. Of course he was there.

She screamed at the Ghost Rider, unrelenting until his face literally caved in. She spared him no thought, knowing who was waiting. She took a step forward and saw him standing in front of her, shock on his face. It felt as though she was a day late and a dollar short, never having shown him the love he deserved. She relied on her snark and sarcasm instead of telling him how she felt for months now, and she felt a surge of guilt couple with her love for the boy standing in front of her.

_“I didn’t say it back.”_

_“You don’t have to.”_

And just like that, they were back, better than ever. They surged forward, passion coursing through them both, and they kissed for the second time in the same place. She pulled back, just as she had a year prior, but this time she wasn’t afraid to look at him, to see his eyes. She stared up at him like he was the sun, the tables turned from the last time. He held her for a moment, and she collapsed into his arms, feeling whole once again. He was hers, and she was his.

The Ghost Riders were defeated, taking Mr. Douglas with them, and Beacon Hills felt more safe than it had in what felt like years. Things were right in the world, and Lydia was finally ready to be with Stiles, in every way. The end of school was melancholy, full of emotions, but they had each other. They were all graduating together, and Lydia couldn’t stop smiling around Stiles. It felt like the sun finally came out when she realized she loved him.

The pack was splitting up for college, and Stiles was finally ready to leave Beacon Hills. He’d been accepted to the FBI program at George Washington University, while Lydia was going to MIT. They were exceptionally proud of one another, and excited for their future _together_. Stiles was even willing to leave his jeep with Scott. Being in it again left him uncomfortable, even if he didn’t want to admit it to anyone. Lydia knew, though. It held the memory of being taken, of no longer existing or being there with his friends, his family, his love. She was the one to suggest they drive to the east together, a road trip for a new couple, and Stiles was more than happy to agree. They didn’t feel the awkwardness that usually came from a new relationship, given how well they knew each other at this point. It felt like an extension of who they were, not something different.

From what Lydia could tell, sitting in the passenger seat of her car, hand holding Stiles’s with her legs curled up, she had finally found that classic movie love. The love Allison once made her jealous of with Scott. She realized she had fallen in love with her best friend, and couldn't be happier with the outcome. She raised Stiles’s hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the rough skin.

“You okay?”

“I am with you,’” she said, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @hufflepuffkira :)


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